Unsettled Spirits (20 page)

"How does one transport chemicals and fertilizer and so forth?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Train, then truck—or sometimes horse and wagon, depending on the terrain. The nearest manufacturer of the chemicals we provide is a plant in Ohio, so you can see that if Underhill folds, the entire state of California would be in the suds."

"Why's that?"

"Because transporting chemicals and fertilizer from Ohio is a lot more expensive than manufacturing the same thing right here in the state, and California produces more... well, produce... than any other state in the nation."

"Oh. That makes sense. But you say Mr. Underhill was ruining the company? Why would he do that? Do you think he suddenly went... Oh, I don't know. Crazy, or something?"

"He wasn't crazy. He was a louse."

"But why would he want to ruin his own business?"

Robert Browning heaved a deep and heartfelt sigh. "Resentment. He knew Barrett wanted to make upgrades in the equipment and spend some money on renovation. He also knew Barrett was right to do both of those things and was also a much keener businessman than he was. The elder Mr. Underhill couldn't see why he should spend money on anything but his own pleasures and comfort. Grover Underhill didn't see the point of making life easier for his employees. He'd made his bundle, and he bragged about having enough money to live on forever. When Barrett suggested the line staff should be paid more, his father threw an ashtray at him. Heavy glass thing. Made a dent in the door. Good thing Barrett ducked."

"Good heavens! I'd heard he could be... well, violent, on occasion, but I thought he only took his anger out on things like rabbits and dogs. I didn't know he abused people, too."

"Ah. So you heard about the girls' pet rabbit, did you?"

"Yes, and Mrs. Hanratty—she's the lady who taught my dog's obedience training class—told me he kicked the family dog down the stairs and she had to pay for its medical care."

"Yes. The man was... Well, perhaps it's an exaggeration, but I honestly think he was evil."

"He sounds evil to me," I said, meaning it. "Out of curiosity, has anyone ever been injured by chemicals in this plant?"

Robert's gaze paid a brief visit to the ceiling of his room. "Oh, Lord, yes. In fact, a line worker died from inhaling cyanide. Unsafe working conditions, according to the authorities, although there really aren't any oversight agencies for this sort of thing. Underhill ended up paying a huge fine and had to pay the family of the deceased a bundle in order to avoid a lawsuit."

"Mercy sakes. How much money is one life worth, anyway?"

"In this case," Robert said drily, "One hundred twenty-five thousand dollars."

Mercy sakes again! "That's a whole lot of money."

"I guess. But it was tragic, preventable accident, and it could have been avoided if Grover Underhill hadn't decided to cut all the corners he could cut in order to make himself rich."

"How sad."

"I'd say it was criminal." Robert's voice was hard and cold as ice chunks.

"So lots of people might want him dead?"

After gazing at me for a moment, as if he wondered if I were counting him among those who wanted Mr. Underhill dead, Robert said, "Yes. I suppose lots of people wanted him dead. However, I don't know who'd actually go out of their way to murder the man. That's a pretty drastic step to take."

"Could he have been accidentally poisoned somehow with a chemical from the plant?"

"My understanding is that he died of cyanide poisoning in church. Well, you said so yourself. While it's true we use cyanide in some of our products, it works fast. He couldn't have been exposed to cyanide at work on, say, Saturday, and then drop dead on Sunday. I'm afraid someone deliberately did him in." Robert didn't appear too upset by anything except that someone might possibly suspect him of doing the deed.

"I see." I sat there primly, my hands on my handbag, thinking. Finally I asked, "It's probably a stupid question, but do you know how many people working here might attend the First Methodist-Episcopal Church on Colorado and Marengo?"

With a laugh, Robert said, "Haven't a clue. Say, are you here to pump me for information, or do you want a job? You sound like the coppers who came here and bothered everyone."

"I'm sorry. I am interested in getting a job, although this one doesn't sound like a very nice one. But don't forget that I saw the man die. I'm naturally curious."

"Of course you are."

He knew I was faking, but he didn't seem to mind. With a grin, he said, "Well, then, why don't you pop by tomorrow at about eleven, and I'll show you the production floor where our line girls work. In fact, I'll take you on a tour of the plant, and then maybe we can have lunch together."

I felt myself blush. But honestly. Robert Browning, who was two years my elder, single, according to his bare ring finger, and quite handsome to boot, wanted to take me to lunch? I was flattered. And that's putting it mildly.

Out of curiosity and because he'd asked me to lunch, I said, "Say, Robert, are you married?"

"Oddly enough, no. Not quite sure why, although I..." His voice more or less choked to a stop, surprising me. "Um, I was engaged to marry Elizabeth Winslow, but..." He paused to swallow. "Well, she passed away last year."

"I'm
so
very sorry."

Oh, dear. I hadn't meant to stir up painful memories. I just wondered why he, a young, single man, wasn't married, when there were so many loose women hanging around. I don't mean loose in a bad way. Oh, bother. You know what I mean.

He heaved a gigantic sigh. "Yes, well, it was awful. She caught the influenza. The pandemic was long past, but that stuff is cruel. Elizabeth was so sick. Finally her illness turned to pneumonia, and she passed at the Castleton Memorial Hospital last November eighth. It... It... It is still painful to talk about."

"I know what you mean, and I didn't mean to dredge up awful memories." I felt like a louse, actually.

"No, no. I don't mind telling you, because you've also lost the person you loved most."

"Yes," I said, feeling blue all of a sudden. "Yes. We've both lost our loved ones. So many people have."

"Yes." He pasted on a smile and pretended to be happy once more. "But we can have a pleasant luncheon together tomorrow after I give you the grand tour, not that there's all that much grand about a manufacturing plant. Still, we can have a nice long chat. It will be good to catch up with each other."

"Yes, it will be." Pretending I wasn't embarrassed, I said, "Thank you, Robert. That sounds lovely, and I appreciate it so much." Then I bethought me of the tube via which the receptionist had summoned Robert to meet me. "By the way, what's that tube-like thing the girl at the desk used to get in touch with you?"

"Oh, that's a speaking tube. It's rather like a loud speaker." His mouth pursed into a grimace of distaste. "That's out of date, too, of course. I hope Barrett will be able to implement the changes he wants to make, if his blasted father didn't squander all the money he'll need to make them."

"Goodness. I hope so, too. Well, thanks for interviewing me. I appreciate it."

"I'm sure you do."

We both laughed as he escorted me to the lobby, guiding me with my hand on his arm. I took my leave of the girl at the desk, whom Robert called Susan, and I left the Underhill Chemical Plant.

Chapter 16

As I'd told myself I'd do, I stopped by the Pasadena Public Library on my way home from the Underhill plant. I had a lot to think about, and I was pretty sure I wouldn't really find out anything of a crime-solving nature in the periodical section of the library, but it was worth a check. I was curious as to what modern innovations Barrett Underhill wanted to implement at the plant, and why his father had so vigorously objected to implementing them.

After a brief chat with Miss Petrie, who hadn't expected me to visit the library that day and had, therefore, tucked no books away for my family and me, I toddled to the Periodical Room, where I gazed about with bewilderment. There were so many magazines available, ranging from pure entertainment to scientific digests reporting on the latest in unpronounceable discoveries. Where, wondered I, would I find innovations in assembly line technology? Truth to tell, the subject wasn't of great interest to me except as it might help explain the death of a repulsive man who had unquestionably deserved his fate.

Nevertheless, in the spirit of detectival research, I reached for a copy of
Popular Mechanics
and a copy of
Scientific American
, gathered them in my arms, and headed to a table, where I sat and read the table of contents of each and remained completely befuddled. Mechanical stuff and I weren't the greatest of friends. Oh, boy, I wished Billy were still around. He'd been an automobile mechanic par excellence, and could have told me in a heartbeat what the newest and greatest inventions were and why they might be of use on an assembly line.

I did so miss my Billy. Oh, well. At least I didn't start snuffling in the library. I took a moment to feel sorry for Robert Browning. So many people had lost so many loved ones in the past few years.

However, after glancing at several magazines—it didn't take me long to give up on
Popular Mechanics
and
Scientific American
—I decided I didn't really care what innovations Barrett might have been interested in. Anyhow, I could ask him if I really wanted to know. I'd ask Sam if he knew. He might even answer me. Or not. I never knew about how Sam would react to me being interested in a case. In this case, however, I should think he'd be more forthcoming than usual, since... Well, since I'd witnessed the murder, darn it.

I left the library soon after my foray into the periodical section, none the wiser for my attempt at discovering the latest innovations in chemical plant assembly line mechanics. Or whatever Barrett was interested in. At least he'd wanted to pay the line girls a higher wage. That was a kind thing to want. He must have taken after his mother, since his father sounded as if he'd been sort of like a devil from the netherworld, and would have preferred having slaves rather people he had to pay.

But I didn't have much time to think about Mr. Underhill or mechanical innovations. When I entered our nice little bungalow, greeted with joy and exuberance by Spike, the cursed telephone was ringing. No one else seemed to be home—Pa was probably out beating his gums with a friend or seven—so I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the receiver.

"Gumm-Majesty residence. Mrs. Majesty speaking." I had the part down pat, and always used my special spiritualist's voice when I answered the 'phone.

"
Daisy
!" wailed a voice I knew of old.

Good heavens, Mrs. Pinkerton's charity event had been staged on Saturday, and it was only Monday. What could have occurred to make her wail so soon after such a triumphant party? Perhaps someone stole the proceeds? If so, my bet would be on Mrs. P's stinky daughter, Stacy. I didn't say so.

Rather, I said soothingly, "Whatever is the matter, Mrs. Pinkerton?"

"It's
Stacy
!" Mrs. P howled a trifle less shrilly.

Aha! Perhaps the brat
had
stolen the charity proceeds. Rather than ask if that were so, I said in a gentle voice, "Whatever can be the matter with Stacy? I thought she was firmly attached to the Salvation Army and dedicating herself to doing good works." Even saying those words made me want to gag, but I pretended otherwise.

"She has! But that's the problem. She's gone and got herself engaged to a
private
!"

"A private?" My brain froze for a moment before understanding struck, not unlike a sledgehammer. "Oh, you mean a private in the Salvation Army?"

"
Yes
!"

Well, thought I, she could probably do worse. On the other hand, we were discussing Stacy Kincaid here, so perhaps Mrs. P had a point. I asked quietly, "Have you met the gentleman in whom she's interested?"

"Yes! And he's no gentleman!" shrieked Mrs. P.

I pulled the receiver away from my ear and shook my head. Her shriek had gone straight through my brain and, I'm sure, burrowed a tunnel through it. "Um, do you suspect him of..." Of what? Who'd want Stacy? Silly question, Daisy Gumm Majesty. "Of being a fortune-hunter or something along those lines?"

"
Yes
!"